Mr & Mrs Morgan-Mr & Mrs Weir
by jlevi
Summary: you know me as Jane... but they know me as the Marriage Counselor. couples from all over the world come to Whitechapel, just to see me... Here's the only thing that you really need to know — I'm just the best at what I do... - Written in Coherence with the craving's game
1. Couple's Therapy

**Mr. & Mrs. Morgan**

Yeah... you know… couples from all over the _world_ come to Whitechapel. you wanna know where they go when they get here? They come to _ME! They_ seek _my_ help... _my_ guidance...  
_why?_— I'm just the best at what I do...

they call me… the _Marriage Counselor…_.

"Now, Mrs. Morgan, we're going to have to talk about this, sooner or later…" –the Morgan's were regulars at my office. "There's nothing to talk about, he TRIED to _KILL_ me!" cries the woman…

"This is absurd!" –the gentlemen is _very _defensive.

"Woa... you tried to kill your girlfriend?" "—hold on now, wait a minute... I did_ not_ try to kill my girlfriend—" "Yes he did!" They're eyes fall on me. "What..? You know what... let's try this, lemme tell you guys about _my _day, and then you tell me about yours..." "That sounds good with me!" declares the male. The lady simply scoffs and rolls her eyes. "—She's over exaggerating..." the gentlemen whispers. "Over exaggerating!?" Says the lady. "Yes, over exaggerating..." "Hey! can we avoid the yelling, now people?" "Whatever" says the lady.

"Alright... so, I want you two to sit there, and think about the kind of day I'm having... I get a call... on my cell... and it's my assistant. You wanna know what she says to me? This is what she says to me... —_'the morgan's are coming...(_—They both stop and blink at me. " "The Morgan's are coming... now how do you think that makes me feel... eh?"

The gentleman and the lady exchange awkward glances. "—Um... I'm not too sure... what to say... to that..." says he.

"–You're lying, Ethan!"

"No I'm not!.."

"Yes you are! She can't _stand _having us clients 'cause you're always whining about something!"

"I-I'm Whining?"

"That's what i _sed__!"_

—_boy i wish that i could roll my eyes like that... _"You do _whine_ a lot, Mr. Morgan" I say.

"—Jane… oh, I see how this is about to go!.. CAHOOTS" he declares. "—see, there he goes again!" the lady tosses the abrasive behavior to the wind.

"Yeah, whatever you sneaky little munchins... Call me crazy... I don't care..."

**(—HUUUH!)**

"Did you just _hear _him!?" the lady cries out to me. "Yes I did, girl."

"You see what I mean? be careful... you can't _trust _him!" It seems as if the lady and I are developing some sort of... bond. "Hey! Jane! Over here… look, you can trust me… okay? It's me… Ethan, your big brother… please don't let the crazy woman get me… don't let her win… c'mon Jane… family over everybody, right?"

"Crazy woman?" says Mrs. Morgan. —did he say... crazy woman?" "—em`hm" i nod.  
she reaches over and plucks a loose thread off the gentleman's suit. "OUCH!"

"—Jane!.. she hit me! Doesn't she lose points or something!?"  
"Don't be silly Mr. Morgan, there are no points in Couple's Therapy…" HAHA! For some reason, it felt _good _saying that…  
"You see, clueless. what's new?!" accuses the lady.

"This is a conspiracy!" cries the gentleman.

"Please calm down Mr. Morgan – we can't have therapy with you in such a... _rage._"

Mr. Morgan sighs.

"—Can I please just explain my side of the story... _please?_" "—_no!_" cries the lady. "Please?" "Don't let him do it, Jane!" she says. "—c'mon little sis..." he pleads. "—don't you dare..." What should I do? Ethan _is _my big brother… but Sarah's my new bestie now… which one of those come first, again?

"—Go ahead, Mr. Morgan… you may proceed…"

"—thank you, Jane..."

The lady didn' take kindly to my decision…

"—playtime with _dollies..._ GONE!"

"—You see, I told you! Crazy woman… no no…" the gentleman teases.

"—please proceed with your story, Mr. Morgan."

"Look… I did not try to kill her. The optics on my rifle were misaligned… a simple mistake that—" "—he SHOT me with a stake!" accuses the lady.

"You shot you _vampire_-girlfriend… with a stake? Mr. Morgan. "—No! I didn't shoot her with a stake!—" "You shot _at _me with the stake!" "I-I… Well…" "Let me get this straight, Mr. Morgan…" I say. As the therapist, it's my job to get everyone thinking on the same page, that way, no one's ever feeling misunderstood.

"You _SHOT_, at your poor, defenseless, beautiful girlfriend. The love of your life for what's going on two months now… She's been your babysitter for over seven…"

"—wait a minute!.." cries he...

"No! you wait a minute, buck-o! You. Knowingly, and willingly, shot a deadly _STAKE, _at your _vampire _girlfriend… knowing that it could kill her? That's what happened, isn't!?"

"Yep! That's right, girl!" the lady encourages.

"—No! The stake gun misfired! It was a mistake!"

"—I'm sorry, but I don't see how I'm going to let you get away with this one, Big Brother!"

"—YES!" applauds the lady.

"—What!?"

"One point for SARAH!"

"Jane?! You said that there weren't _any_ points in couple's therapy!—" cries a young, Ethan Morgan. What is this?" It seems as if we have a dilemma. I need to do something right away…

"—girls are allowed to get points."

"—What!? That's a load of crap, Jane!"

"—no it's not, Jane! Don't let him talk to you like that!

"—Mr. Morgan if you do not calm down, I will be forced to penalize you..."

"—this isn't fair!, you two are ganging up on me, I _knew _this was going to happen!"

"—whining again..." the lady says in her funniest tone.

"—we _are_ girls, big brother, that _is _what we do…"

"SCREW THIS! I'm out of here!"

I watch my big brother as he stands up and storms out of my bedroom. "Ugh! He always quits when we play Couple's Therapy!.."

…my eyes fall on Sarah's…

"—can you make him come back?.."


	2. Mr & Mrs Weir

**South America – Amazon Rainforest – Militia Army Base**

**Mr. & Mr. Weir**

* * *

"– I have _never _been this hot in my life.!" – Mrs. Weir cries aloud to the lush, vibrant South American foliage of the Amazon Rainforest. "–I beg to differ..." schmoozes her husband. "–baby... shut up." "–You know, _complaining _isn't going to make the mission go by any easier…"

"– Whatever Benny… I'm just saying, I didn't sign up for _any _of this! This was supposed to be a _vacation_… to _Brazil_.! But _NOOOOoooo… _The secret circle calls and now all of a sudden, I'm on a black opts mission somewhere in the damn jungle!"

"–rainforest, babe…"  
"–don't _start_ with me Benny, not all halfway across the world, you don't…" "–I'll call in; I'll book us the first flight out of here as soon as we complete the mission… I promise." Mrs. Weir grumbles, "–if I _ever _get out here, it won't be soon enough…"

"–eh, I wouldn't give up so soon bay, look…" Mr. Weir spots something.. _unusual_ during their stroll through the forest. "–wha cha` talk`n`bout?" Mrs. Weir follows along as her husband wanders off into the forestry…

"–look over there…" he says, directing her focus to a small group of soldiers in the distance. "–Militia…" "–yep…" "–what are they doing?" "–look's they're on patrol… the base shouldn't be too far away." The lady agrees, accepting her husband's logic for the first time since the secret circle _ruined _her vacation…

"–what's their m.o.?" she questions. "African militia… they're all the same. We're probably looking at a pretty _nasty _arsenal: ak-74's, grenades… machetes …" "–sick indeed…" "–yeah, we definitely don't wanna get too close… their rifles aren't _that _good on range, but they could cook those grenades… and I don't even wanna think about how much choppin' a machete could do…"

"Alright, so we're doing this _my _way… you should've just said so…" the lady replies. "Hey, now can we at least try to make this as casualty-less, as possible. We wouldn't even be on _call _for missions this week if it wasn't for last time…"

"–look, we've been through this! I can't help how far people are willing to take things sometimes…" protests the lady. "Yeah, but you can control how far _you _are willing to push people…" The lady retreats from him, offended. "–hey... c'mon… you know I didn't mean it like _that_, Im' just sayin... honey… be rational..."

With folded arms, the lady exchanges her weight from hip-to-hip – struggling to believe that she was going to allow herself to listen to him again. "–be rational?" the gentleman nods. "–ugh…_fine_." Mrs. Weir's loyalty delights the gentlemen beyond any point the lady could even fathom in her moment of depression.

"So, what's the plan?" she wonders. "Well… as far as I see it… we've only got one option." "–alright, let's hear it–" "–we sneak up… we take out the guards… and then we check them for supplies."  
"–check them for supplies?"  
"Yeah…" Mr. Weir's gaze remains transfixed upon the Militia." "–if one those guys has a map on him, then _our _job's going to be a _whole _lot easier."

"–alright… so what do we do now?" asks the lady. "You take point – I'm going to follow you around those bushes over there, and when you're ready… we'll – Erica?" – Mr. Weir looks to his side, but the woman is not there…

"–aih gurwl! – what yhe duin`?!" – Mr. Weir stumbles out of the bushes, having heard the soldier's distinctive outburst, he figured as to where his wife could be…

A Militian soldier charges for the lady, but she moves faster than he ever imagined a woman could so. "–aih! sheees na` human!" cries one of the three soldiers. The lady strikes the man across the throat, disabling the troop in time enough to kick him into his oncoming comrade. The men collide mid-stride and tumble over, reminding the lady of American football.

"–aih!" the third solider raises his weapon… "Yhe not goin _no_where…" The lady looks on in horror as the soldier readies to shoot –

_UMPF!_

A punch to the side of the temple renders the solider temporarily unconscious – the lady smiles at her rescuer, oblivious to the limp, tumbling body of the Militian soldier. "–Not today, buddy…" boasts Mr. Weir.

The lady's eyes fall on to her husband's. "–well that was pretty, _not _rational… you think?" he teases. "–sorry…"It's okay… that's what benny-e-cans is here foooor…" "– ha` ha` ha`… you're right babe…" The lady looks down and she notices the troop; he lies, quivering on the marsh beneath them, clenching his forehead in agony.

"Wanna' check him for a map?" the lady says to her husband.  
"–why bother... we can just squeal it out of him…"

Mr. Weir kneels over and grabs the Militian soldier around the collar.

"–where's your base camp? Tell me!" Mr. Weir demands. "–I don' kno what yeh talk`n bout, rude boyh..! –cries the Militian soldier. "–it's either your_ teeth_, or those hostages…" threatens Mr. Weir, "–what's it gonna be?" "–yhu want the ha`sta`gess!?"

Mr. Weir looks up at the lady – "this guy doesn't want his teeth…"  
"–deh wrode! –deh wrode!" the soldier groans. "–what you say? I did _hear _you!" "–down deh wrode… they are keep`n them… down deh wrode, by deh wa`terfall!" Mr. Weir smiles and looks down into the eyes of the Militian Soldier…

"–Thanks"  
_**UMPH!**_

Mr. Weir punches out the African troop. _"–nice… :)" _Mrs. Weir smiles on, "–c'mon… let's go find the hostages…" The lady makes to venture off down the road as instructed – Mr. Weir follows accordingly. "–ya` think he was telling us the truth?" asks Mr. Weir as they resume their trudge through the jungle. "– I hope not… for the hostages' sake."

"How far do you think this road's gonna go?" the gentleman thinks aloud, not expecting an answer. "–Benny… I think we might be here… I can hear people talking…" Mrs. Weir approaches the nearest tree – that of which she uses as cover as she puts her extraordinary senses to good use. Mr. Weir approaches the tree and settles in next to his wife. "–what are they talking about?" "–iono… there are too many voices…" Mrs. Weir closes her eyes.

Calling upon the cursed powers of her supernatural ancestry, she allows herself to heed, _"–I don` want no one makin' a sound. Errr`body on the flooor... rite now!"_ Mrs. Weir turns on the spot, eyes beaming at her husband; "– it's the militia… c'mon…"

Mrs. Weir follows the muffled voices of the militia – soon, she and Mr. Weir arrive at the Militian base camp. "–there they are…" informs Mrs. Weir, "–the hostages are there… the Militia is too." '_Alright, so what's our next move?'_ the gentleman wonders.

'–_Somethin` happend ta Jacob and the boys.!'_

Mr. and Mrs. Weir are close enough for the Vampire lady to make out the troop's conversation…

'_what yeh talkn` bout rhude boyh?. som`thing happened ta`Jacob?'_

'_Yeah me bra`tha! I try n` call `em on the ray-de-o… but the patrol aren't answerin`…'_

The Militian commader adheres to the warnings of his troop.

'–_aih meh bra`tha, how a`bout yhe go n` check it-tout, see`n?_

The Militian soldier is happy to abide.

'–_aight, see`n.'_

"Heads up, Benny… we've got one coming our way…" The Militian soldier takes off for the forest – eager to return back to the camp with an update for his superior.

"K…" agrees the spell-casting gentleman, "–we're going to take him out when he gets close enough… do not. make. a _sound_…"

_CRACK!_

Mr. Weir unknowingly plants his foot on a fallen tree branch. "–um… sorry…" The lady looks on in shame and disbelief, "… such an idiot…" "–hey.! I'm standing right here, ya` kno!" The lady plants a hand on the gentleman's mouth, ushering him to fall silent, _"–ssshhhHHHH!"_

'–_aih! who's there?'_ the approaching soldier stops in his tracks – having heard the couple's squabble, he stands rooted on the spot, ears tuned for the _tiniest_ of noises.

"–Nice job, _dork-o_, you've tipped him off!"

The gentleman and lady fall silent…

**. . .**

"–is he still watchin`..?" the lady's response is a simple nod of the head.

'–_dam bum-be-clod, I don` have time for this…' _complains the soldier. The troop swallows his anxiety and decide it best to continue on with his given task. The soldier forgoes all concern as he walks… that is, until…

'_what the?'_

"–_surprise.!"_  
The lady grips ahold of the soldier's weapon – with her free hand, she grabs the man around the collar and forces him to the ground. _"UMPF!" _– The lady strikes the man with the butt of his gun.

The husband is pleased

"–tango down..." whispers Mr. Weir. " –checking for a radio…" The lady checks the soldier for any means of contacting the Militia. "–found it…" she declares in celebration.  
"–what you need that for?" asks the husband.

The lady jams a determined figure on to the receiver, "–Let the hostages _go_…"  
_" –aih! who is `tis.?"  
"–you've got five seconds."  
"who `are you gurwl?"  
"–5–"  
"–what yhe talkin` bout deh ha-sta-ges?"  
"–4–"  
"–AIH! Yhu show ya` self, see'n–"  
"–1 –"…_

"I've had _ENOUGH, _of this forest talk…"  
–as if bred with _lighting_, Mrs. Weir corners the tree and surges the distance to the Militian Army base.  
The husband face-palms, "–_what_ is she doing?"

"–AIH! You tha` gurwl?" accuses the Militian commander —four men point their rifles. "Ah unh ah... I wouldn't take another step if i were one of you..." the lady's demeanor confuses them.

"—who `are you gurwl?" A Militian troop approaches the lady…

"_ARGH!"_

—the solider falls to the ground; the lady looks on as he struggles to breathe. In the eyes of the Militian commander, the lady senses fear…

—Mrs. Weir takes a step forward

—_CHEEEK CHLOCK!_

"—Don't yhe move.. or meh BLO ya` brains out!" —a Militian Soldier puts his rifle to the back of Erica's head.  
—she raises her hands. "—yhe tas` rite… put `em up!"  
"Free the hostages…" she pleads. "—shut up!" The Militian commander approaches the lady. "—who `are you gurwl?"  
—the lady notices four women, bound together by rope, sitting on the Amazon flat underneath a frayed tent.

" It doesn't matter who I am… please, just the let these women go…"  
_"HAH!"_

"—I would do what the lady tells me to, if _I_ were you guys..."  
— Mr. Weir steps onto the base camp.

"— who is tis` rude boyh, yhe wit herrr?"  
Mr. Weir blinks at the commander "—I'm sorry..?"

"—aih - screew yhu rude boyh! we don' have tere listen tuh ya, see`n?"  
"—pardon me?"  
"—what's wrong wit yuh rude boyh - am i not talkin`loud`nuff!?"  
"—no, I can hear you… I just can't _understand_ you."

"—yuh can't undastand huh ye rude boyh? I bet ya` udastand deh _BOOM!"  
"_—what?"  
"—huh ye rude boyh!"

"—can somebody please just translate for me..." pleads Mr. Weir.

"–just LET the hostages _go..._" interjects the lady, "— there's no need to drag innocent people into this…"  
Mr. Weir nods, "—listen to her…"

"—shuh-tup! Bomb be claud and ne rude boy think we give them tha ho-sta-gess? ney think we soff? Huh me ru—" "—Ugh! _PLEASE_ save the babble!" screams the lady.

Mr. Weir smiles… "—plan B, then..?"

"—ay what yhe doin!"

Erica punches her nearest assailant – he drops his weapon and she seizes the escape. _"—Stop that gurwl!" _"—free the hostages!" the lady shouts to her husband.

Mrs. Weir grabs her assailants weapon and fires it into the sky, causing the Militian commander to dive onto the ground. Two soldiers charge for the lady, but she's ever so _fast_… "—UGH!"  
—the lady trips the closest soldier, causing him to stampede into his comrade. She grabs them both around the ankle and hurtles them into the nearest tree. The Vampire lady was like something the Militia had _never_ seen before.  
—the Militian commander raises his rifle.

_PA-PA-POP!_

Erica looks over her shoulder — a Militian soldier falls to the ground, clenching a fresh wound on bloodstained chest. Having shot his own comrade, the Militian commander erupts into hysteria. "UGHHHH!"

* * *

"—_get out of here! run! GO!" _  
— Mr. Weir seizes a knife and cuts the hostages free…  
"—thank you!" cries the eldest; the four women escape from their bondage – being natives of the forest, they're lost in the heart of its jungle in no time.  
— the gentleman returns to the aid of his lady.

"—are they gone? Did you free them?" she asks. "I got `em; they should be long gone by now…"

_PA-PA-PA-Pa-POP!_

Mr. and Mrs. Weir duck off behind the nearest tree for cover – the Militian commander and his only remaining troop point their rifles. "Give it-tup gurwl! Yeh ye rhude boyh gonna pay for free'n my ha-sta-gess!"

Mrs. Weir grins. "Good…"  
—at this, Mr. Weir grows skeptical, and for sound reasons; the lady reaches into her pocket and removes a black cell phone.

"—_Erica?"_

Mrs. Weir jams a finger onto the phone's dial button…"

"—_Erica?"_

The lady lobs the now _blinking _device at the oncoming Militia…

"_E: Jump!"_

"_B: what?"_

"_E: JUMP!"_

"_B: JUMP?!"_

The lady grabs her husband around the wrist, and as if bred with _lighting_, Mrs. Weir leads them towards the edge of the waterfall

"_E: yeah… JUMPPP!"–_

"_Oh nO Oh nO Oh nO Oh NOOOO!"  
—they cry in unison_

_**BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOM!**_

* * *

**MISSION DEBRIEF  
OPERATION: **_MR. & Mrs. Weir_  
**LOCATION:** _Amazon Rainforest – South America_  
**INTEL: **_MILITIAN ARMY BASE_**  
EQUIPMENT: **_—_**  
PACKAGE: **_Four Hostages_**  
STATUS**: _Success_

* * *

_A little Sum for team benny+erica_


End file.
